


Self-Made Man

by Lycaste



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alien Planet, Alternate Universe - Space, Camp, Crack, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Psychological Warfare, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycaste/pseuds/Lycaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daken Akihiro finds out what it really means to wear his father’s costume. Can he get the guy, battle alien threats, vanquish his past, and look damn good while doing so?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Self-Made Man  
 **Author(s):** lilac28  
 **Pairing(s)/Character(s):** Bullseye/Daken  
 **Summary:** Daken Akihiro finds out what it really means to wear his father’s costume. Can he get the guy, battle alien threats, vanquish his past, and look damn good while doing so?  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warning(s):** Crack, camp, violence, fucking, psychological warfare, alien artifacts, family dysfunction, and maybe a liiiiiiittle dub-con (but hey, it’s Daken and Bullseye!).  
 **Notes** Slight AU. Set after the events of Wolverine Origins but assumes Siege never happened, and Noh-Varr never left the group. Instead Osborn takes his maladjusted team of Avengers across the stars to bring law and order to the galaxy. That’s right. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dark Avengers….in spaaaace!

 

 

 

 

**Chapter One**

 

_Eventually, you will be able to make others feel as you want them to, rather than only how you, yourself, feel._

 

"Lorazepam, Seroquel, Chlorpromazine, hmmmmm…."

Daken Akihiro hummed to himself as he thumbed through endless bottles in the makeshift apothecary aboard the _USS Avenger_. The tiny room held all the medication for Norman Osborn's team of fake heroes, a rainbow of anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, anti-anxiety, and even anti-symbiote pills. There were bottles, liquids, syringes, suppositories, and even some weird-smelling substances that Daken had never heard of before.

On the opposite wall was a series of small drawers with the names of everyone on board who took medication. While the pills themselves were only protected by lock and key, the drawers were behind some sort of force field that emanated from a keypad. One would need a key card and passcode before he or she could mess with the dispensary of individual team members.

The very same key card and passcode that Daken had obtained days ago, after a brief tryst with one of the medical technicians. She had been all too eager to give him the code, which he had been disappointed to discover was 1234567. Osborn's flimsy operation at work.

Daken slid the card, keyed in the ridiculous code, and opened the dispensary to pull out the drawer marked "Venom".

"Let's see now, Mac. You've been looking a little tense recently. Perhaps some Klonopin to loosen you up?" He fished around in the pills. "Oh, but we don't want you to get too relaxed! Maybe a little Adderall to keep you on your toes."

The pill game had become his new favorite distraction, switching around Venom's medication with whatever struck his fancy at the time. The results were starting to show. Venom had lashed out at Ares during yesterday's meeting, and then collapsed into tears as he regaled them all with a story about a dog that he had right before he had bonded with the symbiote. A dog that he had no doubt eaten, if his blubbering was any indication of what happened to the poor creature.

Daken despised Venom, an ignorant hack with no real skills. Although truly his worst offense was that he was a garden variety fucking moron, something that Daken refused to tolerate. The man was useless, so useless that insults and fights with him aboard the ship weren't even all that satisfying.

Yet screwing around with his medication was proving very satisfying. And it was annoying Osborn and the others, an extra bonus. After all, he had to do something to keep himself amused as they hurtled through space between missions.

When Daken had agreed to join Norman Osborn's team aboard the old Avengers ship, he had been hoping for more action. A chance to experience the universe through his father's costume. A chance to show everyone that he could do anything the old man could, only better. That he was a more powerful Wolverine than even the real thing, a fact that would burn the hairy idiot when he heard about Daken's exploits. Even if only a few people knew it was him in the costume, the idea that his father would be out there somewhere seething over it was the reason he had joined Osborn's team of incompetent fools in the first place.

Daken had found out within the first month that life aboard a space ship was actually quite boring. There were a lot of meetings and hopping from planet to planet trying to quell insignificant mutant uprisings or dispatch mid-level monsters. And even though he was out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere space, he still received constant communiqués from Wolverine. Pathetic messages extolling the virtues of forgiveness and family, or at least that's what Daken assumed they were about. He never actually listened to them to find out. The transmission room aboard the ship always routed them to his quarters, so they couldn't contain anything too interesting.

There had been such a message waiting for him when he had woken up that morning, the red blinking light on his comm panel admonishing him with its very existence. After an angry swipe at the delete key, he had made his way to the medication room. A little "fuck with your teammates therapy". Not galaxy wide domination, but also fun.

Daken shut the drawer and armed the security system just as a familiar scent wafted towards him. The smell of aftershave and madness. An unhinged precision that shouldn't smell as good as it did.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?"

Daken whirled around, innocence plastered all over his face. "Lester! Fancy meeting you here. I was just looking for some aspirin. Space travel gives me _such_ a headache."

"How did you even get in here?" Bullseye looked around. "What is this place? Is this the medication room?"

"I got in the same way you did, through the open door."

Daken kept his tone light, but cursed himself for leaving the door open. An amateur mistake. Romulus would have kicked his ass if he had been there.

Bullseye wasn't letting it go. "Seriously. What are you doing in here? Do I need to tell Osborn about this?"

"Really, Lester. Telling on people? Where's your team spirit? I wasn't going to tell anyone about the bottle of Cialis I found with your name on it."

As he said it, Daken focused on relaxing his body and releasing a coil of scent towards Bullseye.

It had taken him years to learn how to make someone feel what he wanted them to feel, rather than what he was feeling himself. The key, Daken learned under Romulus' tutelage, was in relaxing and keeping himself as separated as possible from the emotion he was trying to generate. While the effect was all physical, the crux of the process was all mental. It was about releasing, focusing, and pushing out. Where his intentions went, the pheromones followed.

Funny how the foundation of control lay in letting go. He had always imagined it was kind of what telekinetics or those who practiced mind control did.

Relax, push out. _You're getting angry, Bullseye._

Bullseye was on him in an instant, slamming his back into the wall of medication. "Fuck you, Daken! You'd better not tell anyone that. I have NO problems in that department."

Daken exposed every one of his sharp teeth in a vicious grin. "I'm sure you don't."

He had been doing it for weeks, bouncing the assassin's emotions around like basketball. He was furious one second, confused and jealous the next. Lately Daken had made sure that almost every encounter ended with a dash of arousal. The man was obviously a closet case, and there was something about him both deliciously manipulatable and sexy. He was tall, muscular, and although Lester wasn't the most self-aware person in the world, he had some talent and was actually good at what he did.

Being powerful and useful was more of a turn-on for Daken than looks or gender. He pushed out further. _Don't you find me attractive, Lester?_

"Listen, you mutant freak. You may have the rest of them fooled but I know what you really are. Do NOT fuck with me or I'll jam an arrow so far up your ass that…..that……you'll….."

Bullseye faltered as the pheromones hit him. Eyelids fluttering, he sputtered something semi-coherent, no doubt suddenly aware that he was very close to Daken. Pressing both of them against a hard surface, twitching and struggling to breathe.

"What was that about my ass?"

"I….um…."

Daken could feel a hot pulsing against his hip. Bullseye was getting hard in his costume. Too easy.

While the other man struggled to get himself under control, Daken took the opportunity to tuck the keycard to the medication room into the utility belt of the Hawkeye costume. He then patted Bullseye on his flushed cheek, and eased himself away.

"You can tell me later, sweetheart. Don't forget to shut the door on your way out."

And with that he was gone, leaving Bullseye to marinate in his own sweat, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

 

 

 

 

 

"Why should you respect him? He's more your jail keeper than your superior."

Daken and Moonstone strolled through the corridors of the ship on their way to the main meeting room, late again for another one of Osborn's morning sermons. Lately their pre-meetings walks had turned into what Daken liked to call "therapeutic Norman bashing sessions", where he persuaded Karla to open up about her frustrations with Osborn.

It wasn't difficult, with Osborn controlling her freedom and her team leader status seeming more and more like an empty title. Soon the tension would stretch to some sort of snapping point, and whatever happened was sure to further damage their leader's credibility.

"I know! I'm supposed to be in charge of this team when he's not around, not her. What does Hand even do, anyway? Can she even fight? Does she have powers?"

"Maybe her bad dye job is her superpower," Daken said.

Moonstone laughed. "You think so? She's such a bitch."

"She's just jealous of you."

"Why would she be jealous of me? She's here voluntarily. I'm on a fucking leash."

"Because you're prettier than her."

Far too savvy to blush, Moonstone just smiled.

They continued to walk, passing by one grey bulkhead after another. By now they would be just late enough to irritate Osborn, but not too late to infuriate him. Perfect timing.

For Daken, the strolls served another purpose as well. The mere act of being tardy together was a bonding experience. Who always walked into class late, giggling about something secret? Friends. Only friends sauntered into an event on their own time, not caring how it inconvenienced anyone else. _I'm your friend, Karla. You trust me._

"This is all just further proof," said Daken.

"Of what?"

"That Osborn has space madness."

"What!?! No he doesn't! How do you know that?"

Space madness. The sanity scourge of galaxy travelers everywhere. Avoiding space madness was the first thing that every person on every ship anywhere learned how to do. After all, months and months on what was essentially a floating submarine could drive anyone crazy. It was a condition that everyone thought about, but few people discussed. The prospect was too terrifying, especially since there was no real cure. Treatment involved putting someone in a padded room in a diaper and medicating them until they stopped screaming.

A space madness rumor about Osborn was just what the ship needed. Ares hadn't believed it when Daken had insinuated it the previous morning, but that didn't matter. For a good rumor to be effective all one needed was that stray suggestion. That precious little particle that would grab hold of people and feed their doubt and distrust until they could no longer ignore it. Until it became far more powerful and compelling than the truth itself.

"You're a psychiatrist. Can't you tell? He's obviously in the first stages."

"He can be an unstable prick but he doesn't have space madness, Daken."

Daken shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just keep your eyes open. You're more qualified to see it than anyone else."

They arrived at the meeting room and waltzed in, earning them both a look of not quite contained exasperation from Osborn.

"Nice of you two to show up. When I say 0900, I mean 0900, people. And Daken, why aren't you in costume?"

Daken was dressed in a pair of finely tailored pants and that matched his fitted vest and light blue shirt. Armani. It would have cost a fortune, if the man who gave it to him hadn't begged him to accept it as a token of his undying affection. Daken had made sure not to get any blood on the outfit when he killed the guy.

"I'm sorry, Norman. I wasn't told that this was a costumed meeting."

"Okay, team. From now on, _every_ meeting is a costumed meeting." He glared at Daken. "Got it?"

Daken nodded, ignoring the muttering around the table and the whisper of "idiot" from Venom.

"Moving on." Osborn gestured to the view screen, which displayed an orange, swirling globe. "This is planet Zerkalo, a barren rock that S.H.I.E.L.D. discovered some fifteen years ago. While it has no resources, an outpost was established there to study what was believed to be the ruins of an ancient civilization."

Noh-Varr nodded. "I have heard of this planet. My people believe a great power used to live there. One that has since died out."

"Well something's going on there now," Osborn said. "Listen to this."

He pressed a button, and over the speaker came the sound of a hysterical woman's voice. The recording didn't make much sense, but Daken could make out the words "they're dead" and "we couldn't get it to work". It ended with screaming, and then static.

"Whaddya know, Venom," Bullseye said. "It sounds like one of your dates."

"Har har, Bullseye. At least my dates have a woman's voice. That's more than I can say for you, homo."

Only Daken was perceptive enough to see how Bullseye's fingers twitched towards his quiver of arrows.

"Who are you callin' a homo, you fucking--"

"ENOUGH."

The group fell silent as Osborn pounded his metallic fist against the table. "This isn't a joke. We lost contact with the research station right after they sent this message. There were fifty people there. American citizens turned space researchers. We need to get out there and find out what the hell happened. Be ready, 'cause we'll be there in two hours. Then we'll take the shuttle to the planet's surface."

The order was accepted by the group of hateful heroes with the same lack of excitement that began all missions. Only Noh-Varr seemed to care.

"And Daken, I want you in costume now. We need to present a unified front. There is no 'I' in team."

Daken couldn't help himself. "Well, no, Norman. There is no 'I' in team, but there is a 'me'."

Moonstone chuckled, Bullseye chimed in with "he's gotta point", and Ares wrinkled his nose to look more pissed off than he usually did.

"JUST PUT YOUR COSTUME ON! We leave in two hours."

The group shuffled out as Osborn played the recording again. The question of what happened to the remote outpost still unanswered.

 

 

 

 

"We're approaching the planet now."

Daken piloted the Avengers shuttlecraft towards planet Zerkalo. Osborn had been pleased to discover that due to his extensive training, Daken was one of the few people who actually knew how to fly a shuttle. It was a little more difficult than what he was used to, but easy enough to maneuver and land.

Of all the places and spaces relating to the main ship, Daken hated being in the shuttlecraft the most. It was cramped and had a smell that made him want to gag every time he was in it. The whole ship smelled bad, with his room always stinking like mead and smoked meat. No doubt Thor's old digs.

Yet the shuttle reeked the worst. Daken figured that Tony Stark must have spent a lot of time in there, if the pungent funk of sex and old semen were anything to go by. One could also posit that perhaps Stark wasn't as sober as he claimed to be, as Daken could sense the lingering aroma of Glenfiddich Single Malt.

The heroes of earth were such hypocrites, telling people how to behave while they themselves drank, smoked, fucked, and even sometimes killed their way across the galaxy. All that power wasted in the name of "good". So many of them could have taken control and risen up to really be something, to rule and wield power in a way that mattered. Like Daken would someday.

He may not have gotten Romulus' empire, but he was still a being of immense power and potential. Potential he would live up to, even if he had to kill everyone in his path to do it. That would show fucking Wolverine.

"Are we there yet?" whined Venom.

"Almost."

"This planet is shrouded in mystery," said Noh-Varr. "Legend says the beings who lived here eons ago had the power to show you the inside of your soul. To reveal your greatest fear. Or they could choose to heal the sick, grant youth to the elderly, or make an invalid walk again."

"My Lord, that's wonderful," said Daken, whirling around to look at Noh-Varr in earnest. "Did you know that I'm Japan's official ambassador to the handicapped?"

Noh-Varr's eyes widened. "Truly, Daken? That's so noble of you. You must be a great activist for your country."

"Equal rights for everyone, that's me."

Noh-Varr didn't seem to notice the sound of barely contained snickering, or that Moonstone's face was turning red as her shoulders shook.

It had somehow come to Moonstone's attention that their Kree teammate had no concept that they weren't a group of real heroes, rather murderers, psychopaths, and thieves. Daken had a pretty good idea of how she discovered that, but didn't comment when she had told him. Instead he had instituted a game that involved convincing the poor alien that the group of criminals was anything but. As far as Noh-Varr knew, Moonstone used to head the Red Cross and Bullseye volunteered to teach underprivileged kids to read.

"Aye, a great activist," scoffed Ares. "Perhaps a great embarrassment to your country."

Ares wasn't in on the joke, as he lacked a sense of humor or whimsy. Daken suspected that the over muscled hairy jerkoff thought that fun meant whipping himself with a mace while he lectured about honor. So boring.

Osborn's voice interrupted over the intercom. "Put it down one hundred yards East of the research complex, Daken. We're sensing some sort of power emanation from that area. It's affecting our sensors. Life signs inconclusive."

Osborn wasn't riding in the shuttle with them, opting instead to fly in front of the ship in his Iron Patriot outfit. Armor so sophisticated that he could travel short distances in space with it. The Sentry flew next to him, clad in only his costume and cape. The vacuum of space seemed to have no effect on him, something that Bullseye had accurately described as "in no way unnerving or creepy as fuck."

"What do you think we'll find down there?" said Venom.

"It could be anything," said Noh-Varr. "Possibly just ruins. Or a monster. Maybe even an old God." A look of repulsion crossed his face. "Or some sort of Skrull trickery."

Everyone groaned, sick to death of Skrulls.

"If it is Skrulls," said Ares. "We shall crush them!"

"Oh man, if it is Skrulls," said Venom as he looked around. "We're gonna need more firepower. We're gonna wish we had Captain America or Thor. Or Wolverine. The real one."

Daken bristled. It took every ounce of his self control not to reach over and hit the emergency eject button for Venom's seat, the one that would drop him and his chair into a tube that then shot into space. A tube that only had about five hours of air.

It was a feeling Daken often experienced when in the shuttle. How could he not? The button was so big and round and tempting, and just the perfect clichéd shade of bright red.

Instead he swallowed down his rage and said: "Or Spiderman? The real one?"

"Whatever. Loser."

He put the shuttle down without a bump or even the slightest jostle. Daken always executed the most pristine landings, not that any of his mouth breathing teammates ever noticed.

"Hey Daken," Bullseye unbuckled his safety harness and brought his lips to Daken's ear. "Do you know I'm gonna stab you? My best knife, man. When you least expect it."

"It's always penetration with you, Lester." _Being this close to me turns you on, and that makes you so angry._

Before the threatening flirtation could continue a wail came over the intercom. The Sentry. Shrieking in terror.

And then Osborn's voice. "Bob? BOB!?!? Oh my god….."

 

 

 

Through his many years in Romulus' training camps, Daken was always known as the one with the fastest reflexes. Yet even he didn't have time to react as he stepped out of the shuttle and was immediately bowled over and bitten in the face by some sort of creature. He growled and lashed out, attempting to dislodge the hideous thing that was gnawing on his skull.

"Whoa whoa!"

They were all taken off guard, scrambling to defend themselves as a wave of creatures overwhelmed them. They looked like a cross between a dog and a wild boar, with six red eyes and rancid, foaming saliva.

"What are they? Daken, what the fuck!?"

"I don't know!" Daken yelled as he threw the creature off him and stabbed it in one of its many eyes. "They weren't on the scanners."

There were hundreds of them, a seething wave of blurry black matter.

Ares managed to grab one by the throat, hurl it to the ground, and chop its head off with his axe.

"They die like the living! Do not falter. We shall have victory this day!"

They spread out, leaping and slashing to kill as many as possible. The things died easily, but seemed to have no register for pain or fear. Their main strength was in numbers and single-minded ferocity.

Moonstone took to the air, blasting anything that came too close to the group. Bullseye scrambled up the wing of the shuttle to stand on top, notching an error as he dropped to one knee.

"Watch this," he said. "Three in a row. Middle right eye."

In less than a skipped heartbeat, he shot three arrows into three different creatures, embedding them into the middle eye of each one. They went down in a pool of blood and frothing spit.

"Not bad," said Daken as he eviscerated the nearest two monsters.

"That was their left eye," yelled Venom.

"I meant my right," said Bullseye, launching more arrows.

"Whatever," said Venom, swallowing a creature in a single gulp. "Hey, they look gross but these things don't taste too bad."

Another blast came from the side to fry a few more. Osborn finally showing up. "Stay focused, team."

With the added firepower of Osborn's armor they made short work of the rest of the creatures.

Daken scanned the horizon. "I don't see any more. What the hell were those things? They didn't appear on any of my instruments and…..what?"

They were all staring at him with saucer wide eyes.

"Daken, are you all right?" asked Noh-Varr.

"It's an improvement," said Bullseye.

"I'm fine." Daken reached up and felt the side of his face. His cheek was covered in blood, although what was no doubt shocking his teammates was that it was also hanging off his face, exposing tissue and bone. Blood was gushing down his costume. He pushed the flesh back in place, already feeling the familiar tingle that meant his skin and gristle was knitting itself back together.

"Does that hurt?" said Venom. "That looks like it hurts."

"Not really."

It hurt like hell.

Osborn walked to the center of the group. "Nice work, Avengers. We have a serious problem here. Come look at--whoa, Daken…"

"It's fine." _Dammit._ Daken knew that Osborn knew about his healing factor, but now he'd also get an idea of how fast it worked.

Osborn nodded. "Come look at this."

 

 

Two things were evident as the group walked to the research centers.

The Sentry was sitting on the ground, shaking. He held his face in his hands, muttering to himself.

"You told me there was no Void. You told me there was no Void."

"Oh boy," said Moonstone. "That's not reassuring."

"Agreed," said Osborn. "Now what do you make of that?"

A few yards to the left of the Sentry was what looked like a single pane of glass, standing vertically. It was tall, taller than Ares and a few feet wide. It appeared to be anchored into the earth yet suspended by nothing.

"A mirror," said Daken. "A giant mirror?"

"It's more than that," said Osborn. "It doesn't register on my scanners. It has no weight or mass. Like it's not even there."

"If it's a mirror then you can see yourself in it," said Bullseye. "Venom, go look at it."

They were all approaching cautiously.

"You told me there was no Void….."

"Daken, are your senses telling you anything?"

Daken edged in closer, the glint from the sun making it hard to see what the surface texture of the object. No scent came from the mirror, no sound. He stood in front of it and shielded his eyes. Yet what looked back at him wasn't his own reflection but that of someone else. Someone familiar. Unmistakable.

Someone that had ruled his whole life. Owned him from birth until the day he had tossed Daken away.

It was Romulus.

_"Daken, my son. I have waited lifetimes for my worthy successor. Come, boy. Free me, and we shall rule the universe together!"_

 

 

 

**Chapter Two**

 

 

_Romulus...._

Daken couldn't believe it.

In the months since Wolverine had told him during their last meeting on Earth that Romulus was gone, Daken had thought of their old leader constantly. What did Wolverine really do to him? Had he killed him? Was it possible to find him? If so, what would Daken do if he ever saw him again?

The questions stormed through his mind every night. Although he flirted and swaggered and annoyed his way through the ship during waking hours, a sliver of so many evenings was devoted to ruminating about the ultimate fate of Romulus.

_It's impossible. It's impossible. It can't be him._

And yet it looked just like him, right down to the beautiful flowing hair that Daken had always so coveted. Oh, how he used to beg Romulus to tell him which hair products he used. Not that the selfish son of a bitch had ever shared that secret either.

The air was even beginning to smell like him.

Daken saw red, his pulse pounding in his ears as all the years with Romulus flashed before him. Time that he had thought meant something. He unleashed his claws, breathing shallow.

How dare he? How _dare_ he reject Daken in favor of Wolverine?

"How dare you use me the way that you did? You bastard..."

Ignoring Osborn's cries to stop, Daken launched himself at the mirror. He swiped at Romulus, berserk with rage. He couldn't see, couldn't even think. All thoughts reduced to a single command: kill.

Kill him. Get the deserved revenge. Take everything that was rightfully his.

The next thing Daken knew, he was lying on the ground in an undignified heap a few feet away.

Ares. Ares had pulled him off and thrown him, and was now screaming at him.

"What in the name of Zeus are you doing?!?"

"Get off me!" Daken struggled to stand. "I almost had him! That was...that was..."

He looked around. The mirror was still intact, the image of Romulus gone. The smell of burnt, rotting flesh assaulted his nose.

His arm. His arm was on fire. Or it felt like it was.

Anyone who wasn't a mutant regenerator used to extreme physical pain would have screamed and passed out. Daken just raised his arm in shock. His entire forearm was burnt and blackened, as though he had just stuck it in campfire. It was excruciating.

He could hear his teammates' heartbeats thundering at various levels, voices ranging from stunned to anxious.

"Did you see that? His arm just went right though..."

"....not solid at all. Looks like it is, but it ain't...."

"You told me there was no Void."

"Daken," Osborn grabbed him and shook him. "What the hell was that? What did you see?"

"I'm not....I don't... _get your hands off me_....."

"Okay, easy." Osborn removed his hand. "Everyone just take it easy. Are we all ok?"

Moonstone had tears in her eyes. Bullseye was pale and shaking. Everyone moved back from the mirror.

Osborn, to his credit, still seemed calm. "All right, everyone. We need information on this...thing. There are three buildings here. Captain Marvel, you and Ms. Marvel check out that on the left. Ares and Spiderman, you take the middle. Daken and Hawkeye, you two take the one on the right. Access the computers if you can. Look for journals, survivors. Any clue as to what happened here. Something is messing with our sensors, so be ready for anything."

"What are you going to do?" Moonstone asked, voice trembling. Why was she so nervous?

"I'm going to try and take care of this." He pointed to the Sentry, still mumbling to himself on the ground.

Everyone paired off and headed to their respective buildings. Daken took a deep breath to steady himself. He nodded to Bullseye, trying to affect his usual breezy demeanor. In the blazing sunlight of planet Zerkalo, he could see a sheen of sweat on Bullseye's bald head.

Everyone was freaked out. Had they seen the image of Romulus too? What would that do? They didn't even know who he was.

Daken and Bullseye entered the building, wary of whatever they might find.

 

 

 

 

 

 

At first, the cramped research building didn't seem to contain anything in the way of helpful information. Daken wasn't able to access most of the computers, and the terminals that didn't need a password contained useless observations about temperature and weather systems. The place screamed with the quiet of an abandoned complex, filled with half-eaten food, stale air, and lockers stuffed with alien porn.

And bodies. Lots and lots of bodies.

Every room seemed to have a dead body in it. A few looked as though they had been mauled, possibly by the creatures the team had met outside. Most appeared to have been victims of foul play. There were stab wounds and head traumas. Evidence of beatings. One man was missing his eyes.

"He did it to himself," Daken commented.

"What the fuck happened here?" said Bullseye.

"Madness. Suicide. Mutilations. Typical alien artifact stuff."

"I miss New York."

Daken was inclined to agree. His senses were on high alert, mind whirling to make sense of what had just happened outside. Having Bullseye next to him wasn't helping. The other man was practically sweating adrenaline, twitching at the slightest sound.

All efforts to unwind himself were failing. Fucking alien planets. He was usually so good at this.

"This is so fucked." Bullseye looked at him. "Your arm's almost back to normal. I knew you were a freak. Too bad you didn't put the other one in. Maybe you coulda burned off that gay tattoo."

"Gay tattoo?" Anger flared in Daken. He heard it leaking into his own voice but was powerless to stop it. "Tell me again about that thing on your forehead?"

Bullseye was on him in an instant, breathing fire inches from Daken's face.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Daken had learned early in life that is was best for one to hold one's cards close to the chest, never revealing anything unless it was the right time. And then only in pieces.

"You did it yourself, didn't you? Just like that man over there with no eyes."

Bullseye grabbed the front of his costume and slammed him backwards.

Unwind. Push out. _I'm right behind you, Bullseye._

They were so close. Daken could feel the other man's pulse leaping in his neck. Yet he wasn't turning around. The normal confusion that Daken could always cultivate in an opponent didn't seem to be working.

He couldn't relax enough to get his pheromones under control. The icy cool just wasn't there. Daken couldn't even remember the last time he failed to control his powers. A child. A scared, angry child that he swore he'd never be again.

"You know nothing. _Nothing_ about me, or what I'm capable of, you..."

Something beast-like began to bubble up in Daken as Bullseye continued to rage in his personal space. No matter if he couldn't use his pheromone control, he could still kick Bullseye's ass the old fashioned way.

The assassin went reeling back when Daken head butted him, blood exploding from his nose. Despite the shock, Bullseye was already throwing projectiles from his belt as he staggered. Daken felt the ripping sting of a knife lodging in his shoulder.

_Get in close. Grab his hands and you'll have him. He's fast, you're faster._

He launched himself at Bullseye, sending them both crashing to the ground in a flurry of punches.

"Bring it on!"

Daken punched him again, ignoring the flaring pain as Bullseye stabbed something into his leg. Instead he used the opportunity to grab the assassin's wrist and pin it to the ground. He then managed to snatch the other hand and settled his weight on top of him.

Bullseye struggled against Daken's superior strength, trying to twist his way free. He spat blood and insults.

"You motherfucker. You little faggot."

Daken held tight, although it took significant force to restrain the hurricane of a man beneath him.

And then he felt it, brushing up against his right buttock. Bullseye was hard. Without any pheromone push, without any manipulation. The guy was getting a hard-on just from Daken sitting on him.

A rather sizeable one, Daken couldn't help but notice.

He started laughing. "Is this turning you on? Who's the faggot now?"

Bullseye kept struggling. "Don't flatter yourself. I always get turned on when I fight."

Daken leered over him, the smile that Bullseye hated so much dripping malice.

"When you fight? Or just when you fight _me_?"

And then his right eye erupted in agony, causing him to loosen his grip just long enough for Bullseye to throw him off, roll across the floor, and resume a fighting stance.

Daken pulled something out of his eye. A paperclip? Did Bullseye really palm a stray paperclip with his pinned hand and flick it into his eye?

Respectable. Not that Daken would ever admit it.

Bullseye grinned triumphant and threw another projectile. His face was bloody, eyes shining with unbridled insanity.

"Had enough, Daddy's boy? I can do this all day."

"Actually, sexy. I'm just getting started. Try not to trip over that boner you're swinging."

They circled, each ready to pounce at the right moment. So intent on each other, that it came as a shock when the door burst open and a gibbering, hysterical man ran into the room.

"Thank God! Thank God you're---erk--"

He fell to his knees, clutching his neck as blood sprayed the floor and wall in ribbons. Something was embedded in his throat.

"Oh fuck," Bullseye breathed. "Oops."

The stranger gurgled, choking on blood as it ran into his lungs. He reached out a trembling hand, and then toppled over into a puddle of his own fluids.

Daken and Bullseye could only watch, bewildered, as the man took in one last ineffectual breath. Fight forgotten for the moment, they looked at each other, and then back at the body.

"Congratulations, Lester," said Daken. "I think you just killed the only survivor."

"It was an automatic reaction! He just burst in here! Who the fuck interrupts people during a fight?"

"Yes, well, he won't be making that mistake again."

Daken knelt next to the man, watching the river of blood from his throat become a trickle. Lodged in his trachea was a card with a pretty woman's face. Her title said "Senior Medical Technician."

It was the woman he had slept with to gain access to the medication room. This was the keycard he had tucked into Bullseye's costume yesterday, unwittingly grabbed and thrown into the man's neck.

"Perfect," Daken whispered, wiping off the card and putting it in his own costume. He then began to search the body.

Bullseye didn't even notice. He paced around the room, muttering and swearing.

"Son of a bitch. Fuck. Osborn's gonna lose his shit. I don't believe this."

Daken rolled the man's pockets, and to his surprise he discovered something hard. He pulled it out to reveal some sort of gem. It was red, light gleaming from every facet. It looked like a ruby only much more brilliant and larger, almost the size of his palm.

Bullseye had started to pay attention. "What the fuck is that?"

"I don't know," said Daken, turning the gem over in his hands. It was beautiful and strange. He could feel it almost...resonate with him on some level.

Bullseye balked when Daken put the gem in one of the pouches on his belt. "What are you doing?"

"I'm holding onto this for now." _Always keep your cards close to your chest._

"Man, we gotta tell the others about that thing. They might know-"

"Shall we tell them how we obtained it?" interrupted Daken, gesturing to the dead body.

"Don't you dare! Do NOT tell Osborn about this, Daken. I'll kill you in your sleep. I fucking swear it."

"I can keep a secret if you can. It would be a shame if your Avengers career ended so suddenly over this. But Osborn wouldn't be too pissed off, right?"

Bullseye ground his teeth. Stuck between a rock and the threat of Osborn's control over him, he could only grunt assent. He regarded Daken with hate and disgust. A very serious look, if it weren't for the hard-on still evident through his costume.

They were interrupted by Victoria Hand's voice coming through their transmitters.

"Iron Patriot. Avengers. Report in. We have company."

 

 

 

 

 

Things were weird back outside.

Things were always weird when the team was concerned, but they seemed extra weird when the group reconvened next to the complex. Gathered together as far from the mirror as possible, nobody dared to look in its direction.

Victoria Hand's voice was coming over the transmitters. "It's Luke Cage's ship, sir. They've just come into orbit on the far side of the planet. They're not responding to our hails."

Daken simmered. Luke Cage's ship of renegade Avengers, or whatever the hell they were. A group of ex-heroes flouncing about the galaxy still trying to help people while they evaded arrest by Osborn. For free. Pretty lame.

Wolverine was sure to be on that ship. Just what he needed.

"Uh huh. Yes. Start tracking them."

Osborn stood with his back to the mirror, his helmet covering his face. The Sentry was huddled up next to him, calmer but still radiating his unique, crackling tension. He had stopped talking, instead just standing there with black orbs shining from his eye sockets.

"Sir," said Noh-Varr. "We discovered something important-"

Osborn held up a hand for him to be quiet.

"Advise returning to the ship," said Hand. "Things are too hot down there and we need a new strategy."

"Retreat?" scoffed Osborn. "And leave this site for Cage's people to investigate? I don't think so. This is a matter of galactic security…"

He droned on about duty and galaxy-wide safety. His voice was…off. Just a little off. Daken couldn't exactly place how, but he didn't sound right.

He didn't smell right either. Despite Osborn being covered in armor, Daken could still catch the faintest whiff of something strange. Something he hadn't smelled on the other man before. It wasn't cologne or soap, it wasn't even an emotion.

Bullseye interrupted. "Are you kidding? We just fought off hundreds of things, there's a mind bending alien artifact here that looks like it belongs in IKEA, the enemy just showed up, and our most powerful member has lost his shit." He then bit his lip while glancing at the Sentry, as if wishing he hadn't added that last part. "Um, no offense, buddy."

Osborn looked in Bullseye's direction, seeing him for the first time.

"Why are you bleeding?"

Daken's wounds had already healed from their fight, Bullseye's hadn't.

"I fell." He shot Daken a glance that was at once both pleading and threatening.

"He did," confirmed Daken. "You know how clumsy he is sometimes."

"C'mon, let's get out of here," whimpered Venom. "This place is scary."

"I hate to agree with this pussy, but…well, I agree with this pussy. What is _up_ with you, anyway?"

"People, we're not-"

"But sir, we have information."

"Sir, requesting immediate evac for you." Hand's voice again. "It's not a retreat, it's a strategic re-evaluation."

That smell. That smell. Daken sniffed harder. What the hell was it? So familiar.

Osborn continued to ignore Hand's advice. "Teams, what did you find in there? Report. Ares?"

"Aye. Nothing. Dead bodies and a few rogue creatures, which we dispatched heartily."

"Daken?"

Daken just shrugged. "Same thing. Dead bodies. No information."

"Captain Marvel?"

Noh-Varr was exasperated. "That's what I've been trying to tell you! We found notes and half-translated scrolls. The researchers were digging up ruins, and one day the object just appeared next to the complex. The first man who looked in it had a nervous breakdown and never recovered. Soon after, a few of those creatures came out of the mirror. The researchers were able to kill them, but whenever someone new looked in it, those monsters would start coming out in greater and greater numbers."

"Holy shit," said Bullseye. "So more of those things could come out at any second?"

"Yes."

The scent was driving Daken crazy. It was definitely coming from Osborn. It was almost…good.

Everyone else was staring at their armored leader. Even Ares looked like he wanted to go.

"All right. All right." Osborn said in defeat. "We need to come up with a plan and we can't do it here under constant threat. Hand, we're coming back. Radio Luke Cage's ship and tell him they're fugitives from justice and violating our airspace. If they attempt to come near us or the planet, we will arrest them immediately."

"One more thing," said Noh-Varr. "There is something that can destroy the mirror, or at least cause it to disappear back from where it came. Created by the original aliens, they translated the name as 'The Red Eye of Zerkalo'. The researchers thought they had found it, but couldn't get it to work. The scrolls said that only a man of focus could wield it, that only a man of true power could mold it into something deadly. Something heroic."

Focus and power? Daken's ears perked up. He could smell the irritation on Bullseye while he palmed the gem in his belt. This was one key to the puzzle that he wasn't willing to reveal to the group just yet. Not while an image of Romulus was tearing through his mind.

"So where is this thing? What does it look like?"

"I don't know. One of the researchers took it out weeks ago to try to use it. It hasn't been seen since."

"Uh, guys…" Venom pointed to the mirror in the distance. "Is it just me, or is that thing wobbling?"

"I would like to go now," said the Sentry.

Everyone regarded him, stunned. It was the first thing he'd spoken since they got to the planet that made any sense.

Even Osborn listened to him. "Okay. This is a mess here. Strategic planning session back on the ship. We're not breaking orbit until we get this sorted out. Hand, inform me of any changes with that other vessel."

They trudged back to the shuttle, everyone trying to walk fast while looking like they weren't trying to walk fast. Daken managed to stroll the slowest of everyone, yet still he was unable to get back to his preferred plateau of calm breath. Romulus' voice still whispered in his ear, telling him he could have everything. Then telling him he was nothing. That it was Wolverine who deserved an inheritance.

Wolverine in the same orbit, no doubt sending him more gruffly heartfelt communiqués.

A man of power, Daken was also a man of opportunity. Perhaps it would be best just to get the hell out of here. Steal a shuttle and try to make it to the nearest planet. Fuck the Avengers and sadly transparent Bullseye with his great bone structure and deliciously huge hard-on.

And fuck heroism.

Yet he knew a shuttle would never make it. They were so far out. He'd have to come up with his own plan.

Somehow.

 


	2. Self-Made Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken Akihiro finds out what it really means to wear his father’s costume. Can he get the guy, battle alien threats, vanquish his past, and look damn good while doing so?

**Title:** Self-Made Man  
 **Author(s):** lilac28  
 **Pairing(s)/Character(s):** Bullseye/Daken  
 **Summary:** Daken Akihiro finds out what it really means to wear his father’s costume. Can he get the guy, battle alien threats, vanquish his past, and look damn good while doing so?  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warning(s):** Crack, camp, violence, fucking, psychological warfare, alien artifacts, family dysfunction, and maybe a liiiiiiittle dub-con (but hey, it’s Daken and Bullseye!).  
 **Word Count:** ~16k (Complete, four chapters across two posts.)  
 **Notes** Slight AU. Set after the events of Wolverine Origins but assumes Siege never happened, and Noh-Varr never left the group. Instead Osborn takes his maladjusted team of Avengers across the stars to bring law and order to the galaxy. That’s right. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dark Avengers….in spaaaace!

 

 

 

**Chapter Three**

 

Daken was on the verge of identifying the mystery smell coming from Osborn by the time the team had disembarked from the shuttle back to the main ship. It was spicy and a little sweet. Almost like….flavored coffee? A pumpkin spice latte?

"Do you know what I could really go for? A hazelnut latte. Anyone else?" Daken posed the question to the group as Victoria Hand approached them.

"A latte?" said Bullseye. "Why don't you have some perfume and a tutu with that? I can't believe you're thinking of girl drinks right now."

"It's how I decompress. Norman, what about you?"

Their leader still hadn't removed his helmet. "I prefer mine black, thank you. You can get something to drink after the debriefing."

Pumpkin. It was definitely pumpkin. Not good.

"What was it?" asked Hand. "What did you see down there? We heard your communications. It was some sort of mirror. Who looked in it?"

"Daken and the Sentry."

She turned to Daken. "What did you see?"

They were all staring at him now.

"Yeah, Daken. What did you see anyway?"

"Some sort of monster or alien or something. An evil presence. I couldn't quite make it out."

"You were pretty sure at first."

"At first I thought it was a Skrull, then I wasn't so sure." Daken inspected his fingernails while he answered, as if the line of questioning bored him.

Hand looked at them all one by one. "And no one else looked in it?"

"Nope."

"Nuh uh."

"No, sir. Uh, ma'am."

Lying. They were all lying. Daken could hear the skip of hearts beating faster, he could smell minute amounts of perspiration. Voices wavering just the slightest bit.

Even Ares.

Of course they all looked in it. They were all standing behind him. He had been too wrapped up in his own vision to notice or care. No wonder everyone was so freaked out after he attacked the mirror. But what did the others see?

"Sir?" Hand looked at Osborn. "Did you see anything?"

"No."

_Liar, liar, Norman._

"Would you mind taking off the helmet while we're talking?"

"Yes."

"Oookay, well…."

She started in with mind-numbing information about the mission and strategy. Typical, reactionary stuff that would get them nowhere. Daken took a silent step back, and then another. Before anyone noticed he had slipped away, stealing around the corner to head to his room.

He needed to examine the gem alone, away from prying imbecilic eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

As Daken had suspected, there were two messages from Wolverine on the comm panel in his room. Two messages that, like all the others, didn't survive beyond the first few words.

"Daken, it's Logan. Listen.....I just wanna say....."

"Daken, sorry, it's me again. Someday you'll-"

His finger was on the delete button faster than Mac could eat a junkie.

Daken sat on his bed and tried to absorb every detail of the gem. It seemed to resonate, yet when he brought it to his ear he could feel no buzz. Hear no sound. It was smooth, like glass. Slippery yet dry, like ice and melting butter. Devoid of smell, but resplendent with the most rich and beautiful red he had ever seen. A synesthesia experience amounting to absolutely nothing.

He even tasted it. Certainly not the weirdest thing that ever graced his tongue.

A man of focus, a man of power. Was one supposed to smash the gem against the mirror? Stand there with perfect hair while they spoke some ancient riddle? Could you take it elsewhere and use it? How much power did this thing grant anyway?

He thought of the mirror. Everyone must have seen something else, it was the only scenario that made sense. It knew what shook you. The idea was disgusting, that he would be so rattled by Romulus. He was his own man now. A king. By far the most badass person on this pathetic outfit after the Sentry, who was really too fucked up to even count.

Hours passed while he rocked the gem from hand to hand, turning decades over in his mind. He ignored all sensory perception that didn't focus on the gem, until a noise in the background grew loud enough to grab his attention, footsteps echoing down the hall. They hesitated when they reached his door, as though the caller wasn't sure if they wanted to knock.

Like he didn't know it was Bullseye.

"Come in."

Bullseye entered his room, glowering. He was still in the Hawkeye costume, sans mask.

"We've gotta talk."

"About?"

"About _that_." He pointed to the gem sliding through Daken's fingers. "And about what the fuck we're gonna do here. I don't know about you, but this is not worth my life. Whatever that thing is down there is way beyond us. It caused fifty people to go insane and rip each other apart. Osborn isn't gonna order us out of here. And I don't know if you've noticed, but our most powerful member is also our craziest."

"I've noticed."

"What have you figured out about that thing?"

Daken turned the gem over in his hands. What had he figured out about it? Not very much, other than it was pleasing on some preternatural level.

Bullseye could tell. He gave a sharp bark of psychotic laughter. "Nothing!? What the fuck have you been doing in here since we got back?"

His eyes darted across the room like bullets as he spoke, taking in every tiny detail of Daken's quarters. As if he could carve a slice of desired information from the stark surroundings. Intrigue exploded out of his pores.

He was curious, curious to be in Daken's space. Doing a shit job of hiding it, too.

Daken allowed the visual inspection. One could glean little interesting information about him from his room. He held up the gem. "This thing didn't come with an instruction manual, and I agree that we're in some deep shit."

Bullseye paced around the room, stopping to peek in Daken's closet. "Yeah, so, what are we gonna do about it?"

Daken set the gem on his nightstand as he watched Bullseye paw through his things. "Can I help you find something in there, Lester?"

"Man, why did you bring all these clothes into fucking space?"

"It's my travel wardrobe." He rose from the bed. Time to try this again. _Relax. Release. You can't control yourself around me._

"Your travel wardrobe? You mean this is only part of it? Why the hell do you have all this stuff?"

"I like looking good. Don't you think I look good?" _It's getting harder to breathe, Lester._

His footsteps made no sound as he stole behind Bullseye like a tiger. The carnivore that was going to eat him alive.

Bullseye pulled a suit off of the hanger. "I think you look like a fucking…." He trailed off, at once aware that Daken was close to him.

Daken watched the other man struggle to swallow, managing to spit out "look like a fucking idiot" before Daken backed him into the wall.

"You don't sound very sincere. I think you like the way I look." He sauntered right into Bullseye's space, drinking in the assassin's manic energy while he leaned his lips just a little closer to Bullseye's ear. "I think you like it a lot."

Between them existed only the smallest sliver of air, Bullseye both pulling in and leaning away. Daken could almost taste the other man's heart beating. Eyes wild underneath drawn brows, he exuded caged fury and arousal.

And the smell of him, something animal and predatory unto itself. Meticulous madness. Bullseye was out of his fucking mind, not that Daken cared. To best someone so magnetic, to control that potency, a few loose screws wasn't going to turn him off.

"Now this," Daken continued, taking the all white, scrumptious cocaine dealer suit back from Bullseye and reaching over to hang it in his closet. "This I bought for a special occasion. To celebrate a successful mission that Osborn sent me on without the rest of you. Something really delicious."

He prepared to deliver the verbal coup de grâce that he knew would rope Bullseye in even further.

"I bought this suit…." He walked his fingers up Bullseye's chest, stopping to twist them into the top of his tunic. "….I bought this suit after I killed the Punisher."

_You want me. You wanna fuck me. You'll do anything for me._

Bullseye trembled. "F-fuck you, Daken. You didn't kill the Punisher."

"Oh, but I did!" He pressed their hips together, relishing the gasp in the other man's throat. "I cut off his head and pulled his guts out."

With every hitching breath Bullseye took, he inhaled more pheromones. "Goddammit. That's awesome."

Daken settled his full weight against him, an aggressive spark igniting between them. Oh fuck, it was good. Every inch of his body was humming. He slid his fingers up to Bullseye's chin, gentle at first, and then sharply pulled his head. Forcing him to stare Daken right in the eyes.

"It was awesome. There was blood everywhere. It was _all over me_ , Lester."

Bullseye groaned. The tiniest admonition of a noise as his eyes fluttered shut. "Oh God….."

Daken licked a lethal swath up his throat, feeling him gulp, feeling his pulse pound. Feeling the rock hard erection pressing into his leg. Tasting every ounce of ache and desire and repression. Bullseye just needed that last little push, that last little violent impulse to shut down the brain and let instinct take over.

Power wasn't about getting someone to do something they didn't want to do. Real power was getting someone to do something they _did_ want to do, but would never admit to it.

So he slapped Bullseye in the face, grinning at the assassin's look of shocked fury. He then stood with his arms crossed, letting stray locks of hair fall perfectly into his eyes.

"As much as I enjoy foreplay, I am man of action. Shall we flirt all night or are we gonna fuck? This could be our last night alive, after all."

Bullseye's lip curled into something between rage and disgust. "Oh, we're gonna fuck, Princess." He shoved Daken towards the bed, cursing him with each push. “You think you’re so tough. Squirreling around this space ship like you own it. Always with that big, fat grin on your face. I hate that smile. I _hate_ it."

"Then why don't you wipe it off my face?" Daken made a show of taking his shirt off, loving the way Bullseye practically started drooling over his bare chest. He unbuckled his belt, sliding his pants down over his hips to stand there naked, hard, on display and unashamed.

Bullseye looked like he was going to hyperventilate, like he was struggling to keep his heart pumping through sheer will. He fumbled with his costume.

And fumbled.

And fumbled until Daken grew impatient. "Here let me-"

"Fuck off, man. I can get it. You need to do that part first-"

"Really, Lester." Daken popped the shoulder button and yanked the top of the costume down, surprised when it didn't just fall away. "This is some complicated one piece? Who designed this? I swear Hawkeye has no taste."

"I know." Bullseye tried to shimmy out of the pants.

"It's too small for you too. And what is this material? Feels like rubber. No wonder you can't get it off." He ran his hand along Bullseye's exposed chest. The man was covered in a thin sheen of horny sweat. He was hairless, which Daken liked. He hated screwing hairy guys.

In fact, Daken discovered when Bullseye had his pants around his ankles, he was hairless everywhere. Hairless and muscular and giving off the most luscious hot smells.

"You shave?"

"I shave everything. Now shut the fuck up."

The world exploded when Bullseye grabbed him and kissed him, bringing every inch of their bodies together. The arcing pleasure of skin on skin, relief of a denied lust finally starting to play out.

Daken moaned, licking along the other man's lips. Fire engulfed everywhere they touched. He couldn't remember the last time he was excited over the prospect of fucking, rather than just what it was going to get him.

Bullseye shoved him back on the bed and opened the drawer on the nightstand. His eyes lit up at the veritable treasure chest of uninteresting personal effects.

"Let's see. Knives, knives, knives. I can respect that. Lube, watches. Who needs four watches? Books....hmmmm....DH Lawrence, Natsume Sōseki...who reads this shit?"

"I do."

"No condoms I see. You can't catch or give anyone anything, right? I swear, Daken, if I get some super mutant STD from you, I'm gonna cut your dick off."

Daken just grinned, eyeing Bullseye's swinging cock like dessert. "Of course not. You don't need them with me. And you don't need that either." He pointed to the lube.

"Oh no." Bullseye grabbed Daken's mohawk and shoved him face first into pillow, straddling him to whisper in his ear. "I'm gonna lube up good, and you wanna know why? I want you to fucking _enjoy_ this, you little bitch. I want you to love having my cock in your ass. And the next time you're fuckin' someone else, you'll just be thinkin' of me."

Daken shuddered. He was used to being the most actively passive participant in sex, controlling the act from an emotional distance. He wasn't used to wanting it.

And did want it, wanted everything that Bullseye had to give. The other man was mistaken though, when it was all over it would be him lusting for Daken.

Hand still in his hair, Bullseye dragged Daken's head up to bring him to his knees on the bed, palms pressed against the wall for support. Behind him, Daken could hear lube being squirted everywhere.

"Gonna ruin you," Bullseye muttered, low enough to be talking to himself. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else."

Bullseye let go of his hair to steady them as he reached around to grip Daken with his other hand, jerking him hesitantly at first, and then rougher.

"You like that?"

Daken grunted, loving it. The pressure was good. Bullseye had big hands, he liked big hands.

"Yeah, fuck. Harder."

"Harder? Harder..fuck...." Bullseye tightened his grip.

Daken could feel the other man bringing them together, felt the first warm sting of Bullseye's intrusion. Working himself in, inch by fiery inch. Panting. Breathing in pheromones and dark lust.

A knot was beginning to form in Daken's stomach, a whisper of explosive pleasure. His hands clawed at the wall, his body awash in pain and delicious friction. It was so good to have Bullseye's big hand around him, knowing the assassin was breaking with every passing second.

"Yeah yeah yeah, fucking....Daken..."

"That's it." Daken closed his eyes, skating on the edge of a growing ecstasy. "That's it..that's it...say my name."

"Daken!" Bullseye slammed his hips, burying himself deep as he pulled Daken even closer.

And that was it. Daken screamed when he came, pulsing in Bullseye's hand while electric fire coursed through his body. It seemed to last a blissful eternity, wave after wave of deep, unrelenting pleasure. Leaving Daken with his face pressed into the wall, attempting to catch his breath, head swimming. He came first? He never came first.

A sinister chuckle behind him. "So," Bullseye said, the trembling of his voice belying how unraveled he was. "Just how long does it take you to recover, anyway?"

"Oh, sweetie," Daken sighed. "The hotter you are, the faster I recover."

 

 

 

The rest of the evening saw Daken recover faster than ever, pounded into the mattress by months of Bullseye's constrained desires. He always knew dear Lester was in denial about certain predilections, but he hadn't expected the man to be a furious sex machine as well.

It was more than pleasantly surprising.

Bullseye took him with the savage anger of a man consumed, staring right into his eyes as he tossed Daken's legs over his shoulders. He was strong, manhandling Daken like he weighed nothing, throwing him around while spewing the dirtiest, horniest filth out of his mouth.

The force of Bullseye was like being hit by a freight train, and Daken absorbed sensations far beyond the physical. He could smell every emotion, tasted twisted intentions. Desire. Anger. Jealousy.

Possession. Bullseye wanted to take him, mark him, break him down and make him his. What the assassin didn't realize, was that with every desperate, sweat-soaked thrust he just lost himself to Daken even further. Under the illusion that being on top made him the one in control.

And when Bullseye had them face to face on the bed, and tore the nightstand drawer out to reach for one of the blades he found earlier, Daken just laughed and said, "Oh yeah? Do it."

His second orgasm took even longer to build, and found him convulsing in delirious satisfaction, wailing in Japanese as he came all over both their chests. Sticky with sweat and come and dried blood and Bullseye's fervent brand of demented worship.

"Oh God, oh fuck....that is _hot_...Daken..." Watching Daken climax again proved to be too much, and Bullseye nearly sobbed in relief, making all kinds of satisfied noises as he came. Trembling as Daken crooned in his ear.

They remained wrapped up together afterwards, Daken stroking a clean-shaven head as he mused over the psychotic killer in his arms. It would be so easy. So easy to just tear out Bullseye's throat and leave him shocked and betrayed in those final seconds as his life force ran out.

Not that Daken even wanted to do that at this point. He had, and he was loath to admit it to himself but it was true, grown.....fond of Bullseye.

Or he thought he had. Until Bullseye disentangled them and grabbed Daken's discarded shirt to wipe the come off his chest.

"That's Versace."

"Oh yeah? Here." Bullseye tossed the shirt at him.

Daken pushed out with all his senses. _Just soften, Bullseye. Unwind. Let go._ The last thing he wanted was a post-coital "I'm not gay" freak out. Which seemed far from happening, as Bullseye lay back down on the bed and stretched out.

"What the hell does 'iku' mean anyway?"

"It means 'take me to Heaven with your big American cock'".

Bullseye placed his arms behind his head like a man victorious. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"You're a terribly competent fuck for someone who's not into guys."

"I really am gonna kill you someday, Daken."

"Mmm hmm. Of course you are."

"As long as you understand that. C'mere."

Daken accepted the invitation, molding into Bullseye's chest like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Bullseye held him tight, fingers curling in his hair. It was so comfortable. He could feel the tension in Bullseye drain away, sighing before took in a breath to speak.

"I saw my father," said Bullseye.

"What?"

"In the mirror. I saw my father."

"Whoa. Really? Is that why you were so edgy?"

"Yeah, it really freaked me out at first. More than I ever thought it would. Something….something about that mirror. It was more than just an image. It was….a feeling, you know?"

Daken knew. He knew very well.

"What did you see?"

"I told you all-"

"Bullshit, Daken. You wigged out almost as bad as the Sentry. You didn't see a fucking Skrull. C'mon, tell me. Was it your Dad?"

Their eyes met, and for the first time in his life, Daken Akihiro didn't lie in bed.

"No. I saw…I saw the man I wanted to be my father, but he didn't want me." It stung to even say it, much to his disappointment.

"Ouch. Not Wolverine?"

"No. Not Wolverine."

"Didja kill him?"

"No."

"No?!" Bullseye sat up on his elbows, aghast at the thought of someone not killing their father. "Why not?"

Daken pushed him back down and snuggled up to him again. "I tried. I almost had him, but fucking Wolverine took him away. Killed him or hid him or something. I have no idea what happened to him."

"So wait…wait…your bio Dad cockblocked you from killing your surrogate Dad, who you wanted to accept you as a son but never did?"

"Basically, yes."

"Wow. That's fucked." Bullseye shook his head. "That's really messed up. Your family scene is more dysfunctional than mine, man."

"How depressing."

"I mean, what the fuck, Wolverine? Killing the father that fucked with you is like a man's rite of passage. How dare he take that away from you?"

"Exactly! I tried to explain that to him!"

Bullseye understanding his life? By far the most disturbing event of the whole mission.

"Tell you what, because you got so ripped off, I'll lower my price for killing Wolverine to twenty five dollars."

"Oooo…romantic."

The conversation trailed off, and they drifted together in a semi-hypnotic state for what seemed like hours. Daken ran lazy fingers across Bullseye's chest, concentrating on relief and expansion. He synched up their heartbeats, their breathing. After the tension of the mission, it felt so good to just lie there. To let go.

Of course, sedation around Bullseye wasn't something that could continue forever. Eventually he bolted upright, shock in his voice.

"Holy fucking shit. It's you. How are you doing that?"

For a brief second, Daken feared that Bullseye could sense his pheromone manipulation. His heart stopped. Impossible.

But Bullseye wasn't talking about pheromones, instead he was pointing to the nightstand next to them.

"Seriously. How are you doing that?"

"Doing what? What the hell are you talking about?"

Daken looked at the nightstand where the gem was sitting, only it didn't look like the gem anymore at all. Instead it was a long, flat oval. Still brilliant red, still brimming with resonance.

"It was you. It was fucking hypnotizing. I just watched it flatten out and grow for at least an hour. Like it didn't even seem weird to me until I really thought about it."

Daken sat up too, both of them naked in bed, regarding the object with great suspicion. "I didn't-"

"Daken, " Bullseye interrupted him. "Every time you moved your hand, that thing changed a little. Every time you moved, it moved. Try it again."

"Well, hand it to me."

"Fuck no! I'm not touchin' that thing."

Daken rolled his eyes, and reached across Bullseye to grab the disc and set it on the bed.

_Relax. Push out._

He pulled his hands apart, imagining soft flow and linear lines. The disc grew wider and thinner, responding to his movements and thoughts.

Bullseye was astonished. "How? You're not a fucking telekinetic, are you? I really hate those guys."

Daken stretched the oval wider, laughing with delight. "It's the same! It's the fucking same."

"What's the same?"

"It's just, letting go."

Intention. Separation and flow. Controlled strength. The best things he aspired to. His entire life training, down to this. He was the man of focus and power, after all.

Bullseye stared at him with a mixture of fascination and suspicion. "So then, you gotta make a weapon or something?"

"Right. Something deadly. But what will destroy the mirror?"

"Who fucking knows? See if you can make it into something that would destroy the image in the mirror. What did you always want to kill your surrogate father with?"

Daken grinned, exposing every last one of his predator teeth. "Something sharp. And pointy."

And there naked on his bed, matching every glint of murderous insanity, Bullseye grinned back.

 

 

 

 

 

**Chapter Four**

 

"No. Absolutely not."

"But-"

"I said no, Hawkeye."

Norman Osborn sat at the head of his meeting table like a futuristic King Arthur, flanked by Victoria Hand on one side and Moonstone on the other. He had been listening to Daken and Bullseye's suggestion that he let the two of them take the shuttle back to the planet for further recon. Or he did listen, for about ten seconds, before interrupting with a flat out rejection of idea.

"It's too dangerous," he continued. "I can't risk losing anybody else down there. We're waiting for reinforcements to arrive from earth, and Ms. Hand is researching all files on the planet to see if we can discover anything else."

"Anybody else?" Daken said. "Who else did we lose?"

"Nobody."

"It was the Sentry, wasn't it?" asked Bullseye. "Hey Vicky, maybe you should be researching what we can do to kill that guy when he finally detonates."

"The answer is no," growled Osborn. "Now I appreciate that you two wanted to help, but we're in the middle of an important meeting here."

Daken tried to sniff the air without being obvious. If yesterday Osborn had a slightly spicy scent, today it smelled like he had bathed in pumpkin cologne. Tendrils of a smoky, jack o' lantern aroma were oozing off of him, even through the full armor and mask. The mask that he still had on while speaking to them.

"It's okay." Daken put a hand on Bullseye's shoulder and started steering him out the door. "We just wanted to know if we could help. Let us know if you need anything."

He walked them out the door with a smile on the face like the whole thing was no big deal. They were both in full costume, and as Daken had predicted, the addition of a scabbard hanging from the belt of his outfit had gone unnoticed.

They had agreed to try to get down to the planet alone. Or Daken had agreed, and a combination of pheromones and blackmail had gotten Bullseye to go along with it.

"Well," said Bullseye. "That was a wash. What now?"

The thought of just trying to manipulate Osborn into saying yes was tempting, but without further planning it could lead to disaster. Too many people asking questions about orders, too many holes, and too much time. Without a genuine yes, it would be better to slip down there on their own. Osborn wouldn't be a problem later, Daken had ways of dealing with him.

"Hey guys, wait up. What's going on?" Moonstone was running down the hall after them.

"Nothin'."

"Don't give me that. I know you two are up to something. Why do you want to go down there?"

Moonstone. Moonstone was useful, and she could be in their corner with the right incentive.

Daken took her arm and nodded to both of them. "Not here."

 

 

 

 

 

Daken dragged them halfway down the ship and into a woman's bathroom, one created for the ship's crew to use during their shift. It was one of those hidden, single stall rooms that gave one false hope that it wouldn't be so bad, but a few deep breaths would say otherwise. He locked the door behind them and looked under the sink.

"What the hell, Daken," asked Moonstone, exasperated. "What are we doing in here? What are you looking for?"

"Cameras. Listening devices. I don't see any. Figured this would be a place that Osborn wouldn't dare put a camera."

"Why?"

"We're going down there," said Daken. "We're going to destroy that thing so we can get the hell out of here and back to civilization."

"How?"

"With this." Daken reached for the scabbard on his belt and pulled out a long, exquisitely formed sword. It blazed red, as though it had been fashioned from a giant ruby. The gem, bent to Daken's will. He had spent the rest of the night on his bed creating the sword with a calm flow while Bullseye had watched, naked and hypnotized.

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's the weapon you and Noh-Varr read about back on the planet."

Moonstone was shaking her head. "You found that? How did you get it back up here? You didn't tell Osborn about this?"

"Look," Daken put the glowing red sword back in its sheath. "We're on the verge of getting screwed out here. The Sentry's having a nervous breakdown, we're in the middle of nowhere, and Osborn is going out of his mind."

"Oh, not this space madness thing again, Daken."

"No, it's something else. Ever since we got back yesterday, he's starting to smell more and more like Halloween. And he have you seen him without the helmet on since we got back?"

Moonstone cringed. "No. Hand was trying to get him to take it off in our meeting just now, but he wouldn't. He smells like Halloween?"

"Like a night of trick or treating come alive."

"That is bad news."

"It's gonna be really bad news if we don't get out of here," said Bullseye. "That planet is fucking with everyone. What did you see in the mirror?"

"I didn't-"

"Bullshit. We all saw something. Me 'n Daken saw our fucked up fathers. What did you see?"

Faced with the inevitable truth, Moonstone caved fast. "I saw…..I saw my mother."

"Kill her?"

"That is none of your business, psycho."

"Hey, just askin'."

"So then," she said. "I mean, what are you going to do?"

"We're going to steal a shuttle, go down there, kill that thing, and get the fuck out of here," said Daken. _You believe me, Karla. I'm your friend, remember?_

"But…." Moonstone faltered. "You can't just steal a shuttle."

"Sure I can! That's the easy part."

"It is?" said Bullseye.

"It is when you have the launch codes. And when the night guards to the shuttle bay owe you a favor."

"What about Osborn?"

"Osborn will be no problem," said Daken. "He cares about two things. Results and appearances. He'll be way less pissed if we actually get rid of that thing, and with extra insurance he'll be beside himself with glee."

"Insurance?"

Daken pulled a small digital video camera from his belt. "It doesn't show up on scanners, but I’ll bet the mirror and those creatures down there can be recorded. If we can get footage of ourselves being heroic and destroying the thing that killed all those poor, innocent people, Osborn will be wetting himself. He'll let go any insubordination."

"You think so?"

"I know so. And do you know who would be perfect to do the recording?" He pressed the camera into Moonstone's hand. "Someone who can fly."

_You trust me, Karla._

"Is it really just the two of you? In that meeting Hand estimated that there could be millions of those things down there this time after the Sentry looked in it."

"Well, with you it makes three."

"What about someone else?" she asked. "Who else can come with us? What about Ares?"

Daken frowned. "Screw Ares. He's in Osborn's pocket and he thinks he's doing the right thing. We can't trust him."

"Venom?"

"You're serious?"

"Actually, no. What about Noh-Varr?"

Noh-Varr could be useful, Daken thought. And he was gullible, easily tricked into doing something for them.

"Wait," said Bullseye. "Who the fuck is Nova?"

"Not Nova, you idiot. Noh-Varr."

"Which one is he?"

Moonstone threw up her hands. "Captain Marvel?! The alien? The guy with the great abs!?!"

"He does have great abs," Daken agreed, delighted at the brief flare of jealousy he sensed in Bullseye.

"Oh yeah. The guy with no personality. He's an okay fighter."

"He's not a bad choice," said Daken. "I can convince him."

"What about," said Moonstone. "someone from Luke Cage's ship?"

Bullseye sputtered. "Are you crazy? They're the enemy! We can't ask any of them."

"We could if it was someone who was used to operating on their own."

"I see where you're going with this," said Daken. "No. No way."

Moonstone continued. "A loner. Someone used to doing his own thing."

"No."

"Someone used to disobeying orders."

"Karla, no."

"Daken, do you want to die out here, or do you want to use every resource available to you?"

She was right of course. Daken hung his head. She was right, and he wasn't one to shoot himself in the foot by discarding a valuable asset. They would need all the independent fighters they could get.

"All right. All right. Fine. But we'll go talk to Noh-Varr, and YOU can contact Wolverine."

 

 

 

 

 

Convincing Noh-Varr to come along had been too easy. A wall of fast moving pheromones combined with an impassioned pep talk had done the trick.

"Blah blah save the day, something something.....the team needs you, oh and Norman who? It's all gonna be fine, you big hero you. Now breathe deep."

Noh-Varr had stood in his doorway in just a pair of sweatpants, listening intently while Daken ogled his chest. The vein in Bullseye's forehead became more and more prominent.

"Oh yes, of course, Daken. I'll be right there. Allow me to just get dressed."

"His abs are okay," said Bullseye as they waited in the hall for Noh-Varr.

"Okay? He's ripped! Cute too." _You hate the thought of me with anyone else._

"Whatever. Maybe you two can start a club for dumb eighties hairstyles on non-human freaks."

"Why, Lester! Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"

"Fuck you, Daken. In your dreams."

 

 

Getting the shuttle had been even easier. After telling his teammates to wait outside, Daken had simply waltzed into the shuttle bay and had a little chat with the guards. There were two of them, two people whose best interests involved Daken not telling their families about certain....carnal activities that had taken place over the last few months.

Always fuck the people with mid-level authority and something to lose first.

"Yes, yes, Osborn ordered this. It's an important training exercise. Classified of course. No need to contact him. Important meeting and all. We'll be back soon, please and thank you. Now take a good look at how tight this costume is....."

Daken silenced the communications system as soon as they were clear of the ship, not wanting to hear any possible incoming messages from them. The guards wouldn't tell, but someone monitoring deep space could notice them out there and report it. He had to assume that Osborn would soon find out they had left.

Which meant that the mission had to be successful, or they were all in deep shit. Well, his teammates would be in deep shit, he could find a way out of it. Charm, threats, bargaining. He even considered the possibility of trying to defect to Luke Cage's ship, under the pretense of having information about Osborn. A double agent after all.

Yet he didn't want to have to do that. Or, to be honest with himself, he didn't want to have to leave Bullseye to explain himself alone. Only because the man was fun, and a great lay. And Daken had big plans for him.

Not because he cared about him.

"We're approaching the other shuttle," said Moonstone.

She had managed to hail the other ship and get ahold of Wolverine, who agreed to meet them in a shuttle alone at pre-determined coordinates. She had sent the message from the communications room itself, so no one would know about it unless they checked the logs later.

How she had managed to send the message without attracting attention from the people working in communications, Daken didn't know. He suspected Moonstone had her own powers of persuasion.

"Docking sequence initiated." Daken began the process of connecting with the other shuttle, the edgy excitement and disgust he always experienced when he knew he was going to see his father had started to settle in the pit of his stomach.

"How did you get him to agree to this anyway?" asked Bullseye.

"Simple. I just explained the situation and then told him that Daken needed his help, and he agreed to do it."

"Awww....isn't that sweet?"

"Shut up," muttered Daken.

"It is sweet, Daken." said Noh-Varr. "Your father cares about you. Why would this bother you?"

"Just drop it."

Fingers running over the scabbard on his belt, Daken focused on releasing his face and jaw, pushing out to cloak his own scent. His face a mask of disaffected boredom, his body a canvas of neutrality. It was obvious during his former encounters with his father that the man couldn't pick up on Daken's scent or emotions.

He wanted to keep it that way, Daken a mystery while Wolverine was an open book to his son. _Fuck, I am so much better at all this than the old man. If only Romulus had given me the adamantium....._

Real or not, inheritance or not, sticking a sword into an image of Romulus was going to feel damn good.

A light on the control panel blinked, indicating that the shuttles had docked and pressure was equal. The wheel on the cabin door creaked in a lazy circle, and in stepped Wolverine.

He looked like he always did, semi-disheveled and under-dressed. Reeking of cheap beer and cheaper cigars. Like the shuttle didn't smell trashy enough.

"Hey," said Wolverine.

Daken barely inclined his head. "Hey."

"So..."

"Yeah."

"Moonstone called me."

"Obviously. We need more fighters."

"Count me in."

"Very good then."

"How've ya been?"

"Fine."

"You look good, Daken."

"Of course I do."

Bullseye, Moonstone, and Noh-Varr were looking on with the naked interest of an audience at a daytime talk show, hoping to see either some good drama or a joyous, tearful reunion. Or in the case of Daken's family, a screaming, rage-fueled, stabbing, dismemberment, sniktfest.

Daken wasn't about to give them the satisfaction. For now anyway.

"Well, let's get going." He sat back in his chair and concentrated on flying the shuttle.

 

 

 

 

The rest of the flight passed tense and quiet, with Daken pretending not to notice that Wolverine was pretending not to look at him. It was a relief when the planet came into view and they descended into the atmosphere. Risking life, limb, and sanity fighting the incarnations of their combined personified evil was a far nicer prospect than spending even ten minutes with his father.

Daken landed the shuttle. "I'm putting us down closer to the mirror than last time. It's about twenty meters? East, right near the research buildings."

As he spoke, a dark cloud descended over the windows. A skittering mass of black fur and gnashing teeth. The creatures. They covered the outside of the shuttle, enveloping it in darkness until the only visible light came from the control panel.

"Is this the welcomin' committee?" asked Wolverine.

"There were....less of them last time," said Noh-Varr.

_*SNIKT*_

Daken and Wolverine unleashed their claws at the same time, Moonstone took out the camera, and Bullseye notched an arrow. They all looked at each other with that "holy shit this is serious but I'm so badass I'm not nervous, really I'm not" expression.

Except for Wolverine, who looked like he was going to just another day at the office.

"Remember," said Daken. "They're quicker than they look. Clear a path for Moonstone to get into the air first, the rest of us will move as a tight unit. All right. Are we ready?"

"Wait! No. I mean...aren't you gonna say it?" asked Bullseye.

"Say what?"

"You know...assemble and all that."

"You're _kidding_ me. You actually care about that?"

"Well, maybe a little."

"It's stupid. We're already assembled. I never understood that. It's like saying 'let's party' after the party has already started."

"Say it, Daken," said Noh-Varr. "It will be inspiring."

"Yeah," said Moonstone. "If we die out here, let's die as real Avengers."

"You should say it, Daken," said Wolverine. "It looks good on ya."

"It does? I don't know." Daken indicated to his costume. "I don't know how you get around in this thing. These ear wings are ridiculous and the colors are all wrong. I was thinking of something sexier and-"

Wolverine rolled his eyes. "Not the outfit, kid. I was talkin' about bein' a leader. It looks good on ya."

To his dying day, Daken would swear that hearing those words from Wolverine meant nothing to him.

He struck his most alluring pose. "All right. Fine. Avengers......ASSEMBLE!"

"Yes!" said Noh-Varr.

Wolverine nodded. "Not bad."

Daken looked at Bullseye. "Everything you hoped for?"

Bullseye shrugged. "I give it a six outta ten. Let's do this."

They opened the door to the surface of the planet.

 

 

 

Wolverine was out first, for which he was rewarded by several vicious bites to the face. Normally Daken would have thought this hilarious, if they hadn't been besieged on all sides by a storm of monsters. There were so many of them, it was hard to tell where one ended and another began. They covered every visible surface, an ocean of fur and fangs.

Moonstone went intangible, flying out of the chaos and rising above them. She tried to blast a path for them while she started the camera.

"Guys! This way!"

They moved in tight formation, backs toward each other while they slashed, punched, and stabbed anything that got too close. Inching towards the mirror as they fought.

Daken never held the same stance for long. If the enemy was fast, you had to be faster. He spun and twisted, eviscerating one creature after another as they threw themselves at him.

He cast a glance at Bullseye. For the only human in the group, the man was certainly holding his own. He had slung the bow back over his shoulder and was throwing tiny blades from his tool belt with freakish speed and accuracy. Looking damn sexy while he was doing it, Daken noticed.

"Argh!" Daken yelped in surprise when a pair of teeth sank into his thigh.

"Hey," Wolverine yelled, ripping the creature off his leg. "Eyes on the fight!"

The ground was becoming wet with blood, littered with decapitated monster heads. The only sounds in the air were coming from the team, heavy breathing, blasts from Moonstone above, masculine grunts, and the whizzing of blades and claws. The creatures made little sound, just the light rustling of legs like an army of ants.

They were getting closer. Daken could see the mirror glinting in the daylight. Not far now.

A creature launched itself at Wolverine, who caught it and broke its neck in mid-air. He must have killed hundreds of them by now, completely oblivious to how they kept ripping chunks of his flesh off. Bringing him had been a good idea. Daken would have died sooner than admit that out loud, but a good idea nonetheless.

Moonstone had stopped blasting, and was now holding the little camera steady with both hands. "You're almost there!"

"There's a million of 'em," said Wolverine. "What the hell are these things?"

"They're generated by the mirror," yelled Noh-Varr as he leapt into the air to kick one in the throat. "It's powered by the darkness of those who look in it."

"Well, who looked in it?"

"All of us," answered Bullseye. He had ran out of projectiles and was now firing arrows with the speed of an archer on alien crack. "Including the Sentry."

"All of you AND Bob? Fuckin' great."

A blanket of deadly quiet settled over them as they approached the mirror. Daken faced it head on, while the others put their backs together and covered him.

Moonstone was screaming at him from above, but Daken didn't hear. The fight, the blood, the pain all fell away as he stared into the mirror. An icy cold seized him as a form took shape to stare back at him. But it wasn't his reflection.

Romulus.

_"Daken, my son. Help me. Help me rise again and I'll give you everything you ever wanted._

It was so real. In his mind he had imagined it would be like ripping a picture from a magazine, yet it was him. Romulus. Right in front of him again. Promising him everything. Impossible.

Daken faltered, his fingers on the scabbard loosening.

The sounds of the fight faded away. It was just him and the mirror. Him and Romulus.

A hand reached out from the mirror towards him. Not just a reflection, but a real hand. Slithering towards him in slow motion, complete with those gorgeous talons. Those long fingernails that on rare occasions used to scratch his head with approval when he was a child.

"You...."

_"Come to me, Daken._

"You're...you're not him."

Daken's heart was thundering, his entire body frozen. His very essence, every ounce of his prehensile attention, was tunneled into the scene in front of him. A hand stretching out for him, the tip of a boot. Wisps of hair.

_"I am what you will become. I am everything and everywhere. I know you, Daken. I created you. Not the man next to you. Me! Your true father."_

"It's not him, it's not him." Daken struggled to move. He had longed to hear those words from Romulus for so many years.

_"I can give you everything. The power of an emperor. Take my hand, son!"_

Daken raised a shaking finger. "You didn't....you didn't make me. You used me, and left me with nothing!"

So many years working for Romulus. A lifetime of never questioning who he was, or what he wanted. What was left when it had all collapsed? All the lies about his future, about his asshole father.

About his mother.

Without Romulus, who was he, really?

Daken's attention faded in and out. The air was freezing. Somewhere way off in the distance, he could hear Bullseye screaming. "Daken, if you're gonna make a move, fucking make it!"

The scabbard vibrated at his side.

Amidst the distant chaos of the battle, the screaming of his teammates, the whispering of the mirror, Daken closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His control had always stemmed from detachment. _Relax, push out, just let go._

Romulus may have trained him, but he had never given him any true power. Daken was a self-made man.

Eyes shut, he anchored himself with breath, letting go of all the anger and madness and terror he felt towards Romulus. All his desires, all his lust. Untangling like a spool of knotted thread.

The sounds of the battle drifted back to him. He could feel the comforting warmth of Bullseye's back to his. He could feel his fingers again.

When he opened his eyes, Romulus appeared to be leaning halfway out of the mirror. A nightmare made flesh. Daken's whole world.

It had all been a fucking lie.

A taloned hand reached towards him, inches from his face now.

_I am the answer, boy._

"Bullshit," he whispered, fingers reaching for the scabbard.

_Daken, don't you want to avenge your mother?"_

"Yes," Daken pulled the sword out the holster. "I do."

He drove the blade into the image of Romulus, shattering the mirror into a thousand screaming pieces. The sword broke too, all fragments melting into the ground and disappearing.

In an instant, the creatures vanished. Leaving the team standing there, bloody and sweating, staring at Daken in wide-eyed amazement.

Wolverine clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Nice work, Daken."

"Thanks, Logan."

And he meant it.

 

 

 

 

 

"What!?! A hundred? Fuck you, alien boy, I must have killed a thousand of those things!"

"I meant no offense, Hawkeye. You fought very well."

The mood on the shuttle ride back was one of jubilation. Bullseye and Noh-Varr were discussing how many creatures they had killed, Daken and Wolverine were sitting in the front of the shuttle, and Moonstone was inspecting the footage she had shot.

"How's it look?"

"Great." She hit the playback button. "This is great. You look awesome, Daken. Osborn really might let it all go when he sees this."

"Of course he will."

"What if he doesn't?" asked Wolverine, the concern for his son evident.

"Oh please," said Daken. "I can handle Norman."

"Can I ask ya somethin'?" Wolverine dropped his voice while the others chatted excitedly in the back of the shuttle. "Why Osborn's team? Why'd you join them?"

"You've asked me that before."

"Yeah, and ya never gave a straight answer. Why'd ya make a knucklehead move like workin' for Osborn? It seems....I dunno, beneath ya."

Daken didn't even try to lie. Fuck it. If he told a sliver of truth now, Wolverine might be compelled to tell a truth in return.

"Honestly. I just wanted to know what it felt like."

"What what felt like?"

He indicated to the costume. "This. I wanted to know what it felt like when the world sees you in this."

"Aha." His father nodded, the answer no doubt making complete sense to him.

"And I wanted to piss you off."

"Oh? Well, you succeeded there." Wolverine cocked one eyebrow in that infuriating way that women seemed to love, but Daken thought just made him look terminally clueless.

"My turn. What did you do with him?"

"With who?"

"You know who. Romulus. What did you do with Romulus?"

"Why are ya askin' me that now?"

"Because....he's....it was him. In the mirror. The mirror showed me Romulus."

Wolverine was shocked. "Really? You saw Romulus?"

"Yes. It was so....real. Could it....could it really have been him?"

Daken didn't even bother with pheromones, instead he flashed his best "please tell me, Daddy" face.

Wolverine hung his head. "I trapped 'im....in another dimension."

"Could it have been him then?"

"Honestly, Daken, I don't know. If you all looked in it, but only you saw Romulus, then I gotta say probably not."

"Didn't think so." Daken continued flying the shuttle, as if any answer his father gave would have been met with an equal amount of disinterest.

"Listen, Daken, I gotta-"

Daken held up a hand. "No. Don't. Whatever you're going to say, don't. No lectures about Osborn, no invitations to join your band of merry idiots, no more family bonding. Just don't."

"Easy, kid. It's nothin' that heavy. But I gotta say this. Look, I don't care that you're gay-"

"I'm not gay, _Wolverine_ ," spat Daken, a little too loudly as the conversation in the back stopped and three sets of curious ears perked up.

"Wait, he is not gay?" whispered Noh-Varr to Moonstone.

Daken dropped his voice. "I'm not gay, Daddy. So fuck off."

Wolverine shook his hands in defense, now whispering back. "Bi then. Whatever. Whatever ya are, I'm okay with it."

"You think that matters to me?"

"No. I don't. But what does matter, Daken, is yer choice of partners." He pointed a thumb to the back. "I mean, Bullseye?! I can smell 'im all over ya. Really, son, you can do better."

And that was it. Awkward mission bonding was one thing, but having his absentee, mattress surfing father criticize his sex life was something else. No one told him who to fuck.

Besides, Bullseye was his special.....whatever. He wasn't letting him go until he fucking felt like it.

So without another thought, Daken punched the big, luscious tempting red button on the control panel. The one that controlled the eject function on the passenger seat.

Wolverine's face didn't even have time to register anything before his seat dropped out from under him, and he was shot into space in the eject pod. Daken leaned back in his chair and put both arms behind his head.

_That_ felt fucking good.

Bullseye and Moonstone were laughing.

"Nice one, Daken!"

Noh-Varr was puzzled. "Why did you just-"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? That's how he's leaving the ship. We agreed on it beforehand. It's more stealthy that way."

"I see."

Bullseye came to the front of the ship to put a hand on his shoulder, and then leaned against the control panel.

"Man," he grinned. "Fuckin' nice. How'd that feel? Two fathers in one day! I'm a little jealous."

Daken spread his legs in his usual carefree, haughty manner. "You like that, sweetie?" _Relax. Push out._

"It wasn't bad. Coulda done with more blood but you did the job."

"For fifty bucks I'll kill yours." _You want me, Bullseye. You can't take your eyes off me._

Bullseye laughed. "Stealing my lines now? I'll let it go this time, you little mutant.....mutant...."

He trailed off, staring between Daken's legs at the visible bulge on his very tight costume.

"Mutant what?" asked Daken.

"Uh...yeah...what?"

"Oh, nothing."

Daken could smell Bullseye start to sweat as the assassin stared unabashedly at his crotch. So focused was Bullseye on his body that he didn't notice Daken's left hand stealing across the keyboard, sending an encrypted message to Luke Cage's ship. Secretly telling them the location of Wolverine.

 

The End


End file.
